


The Void: Unbound By Time

by Araesson, Arlewena



Series: A Dream Within A Dream [2]
Category: HetaOni, Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: ... or just odd versions of themselves, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Characters as worst versions of themselves, Controlling Relationships, Depression, F/M, If you are looking for True Hetaoni Friendship look elsewhere, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Power Plays, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Purposeful OOC, Sadism, Someone Call the Character Abuse Hotline, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 03:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araesson/pseuds/Araesson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlewena/pseuds/Arlewena
Summary: There is a consequence for every action. For bringing Italy to Middle Earth? The consequences are devastating.Never enter the Mansion... For it holds dangers far greater than you can dream.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to preface this by saying this gets Dark. Remember Hetaoni? We took that and ripped out most of the wholesome feels. And then set everything on fire. It gets worse than you remember (WE'RE SORRY PRUSSIA. AND DEAR GOD AMERICA). 
> 
> Ahem. Anyway. This runs... sort of?... concurrent to the main story of A Dream Within A Dream. This part doesn't really line up with much, since the Void doesn't know what that time shit is or what it does. However, it will become relevant. We swear. It just takes a bit. Because, you know... time. What's that? We have to figure that out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Playlist:  
> Dragon Slayer - Mighty Pixel (The Vala)

**Valinor**

The dark haired woman sat alone in her obsidian hall. Her eyes were closed-- she could have been asleep. 

She wasn’t. She was waiting. 

“Vairё?” Another woman’s voice broke the silence. Vairё’s black eyes snapped open as the visitor approached her. “Námo told me you wished to speak with me.”

Vairё swept an arm to the side, indicating a chair placed to the side of her throne. “Perhaps it is nothing. Either way, we will know when Námo returns. He promised to look into the matter during his discussion with Italia.” 

“You mean this has something to do with Italia?” the brunette asked as she took her seat. “Is this going to harm him?” 

“I don’t know yet, Nienna,” Vairё replied irritably, tapping her nails upon the armrest. Nienna watched her for a moment, before relaxing in her chair and waiting for when Námo would return with news. 

The wait, for a Vala, was not a terribly long time at all.

A blonde haired man opened the doors and walked inside with purpose. His expression was grim, and he wasted no time in saying, “You were right. Italia was odd when I spoke to him. A part of him is missing.” 

“A part of him?” Nienna repeated warily. 

“Most of his fёa remains intact, but it is undeniable that it is not all with him. Where the rest is, I do not know,” Námo clarified.

Vairё stood up. “Then we should find him.” 

* * *

The meeting hall was hushed as the Vala trickled inside. The seats filled up one by one, until only two seats remained. One would not again be filled by its occupant, but the other was merely late. Again. The others waited without a word. Nothing seemed to stir. 

The stillness was broken when a tall figure threw open the door and barrelled his way inside. He had a strong, handsome face framed by curly golden brown hair. 

“Sorry for taking so long!” the newcomer exclaimed as he threw himself into his seat between Námo and the table’s head. “I was simply speaking to this lovely young lady about the--” He stopped abruptly, surveying the disapproving and uncaring faces of those around him. Tulkas let out an uncomfortable cough. “Well, that matters not. What is this all about? Námo?”

“Our actions have had… unforeseen consequences,” Námo replied, addressing the table as a whole. “Vairё told me to watch for something odd when I spoke with Italia. I did as I was bid, and found she was right to be suspicious. A small part of his fёa was split from him, likely when we transported him to Arda.” 

The boy at the head of the table-- he looked to be the youngest of all of them, but there was something wise in his clear blue eyes-- frowned and asked, “Have you found him? Where is he?”

Nienna nodded. “We… did find him. He’s in the Prison. In the Void. His is not the only fёa shard trapped there.” Every face went pale. Nienna’s fists clenched. “We have to do something. Against the one who resides there… what chance do they have? We cannot forsake them. They will die.” 

Vairё huffed. “We don’t know that. I cannot clearly see their fate.” Her gaze averted down to her clasped hands. “It is… murky at best. However, there _is_ a way they _can_ escape. The Prison was not built to keep _them_ in, and they are not within the same protections he is under. If they deserve to escape, they will find their own way out.” 

“So what happens if these fёa shards do perish there? What happens to the rest of them? What will happen to Italia?” Another woman-- Estё-- spoke. Her hair was a dark shade that seemed almost teal.

The room was silent. No answer was forthcoming. Estё swallowed and nodded. “I see. We cannot risk it if we do not know what will become of them.” 

“And why not?” asked Aulё, a copper-skinned figure with a voice that growled in his barrel chest. “Even should we not interfere, their presence there is dangerous. They may not escape, but he could easily use them to bring about his own escape. We cannot allow that to happen.”

A figure with the appearance of a teenager with long, dark hair snorted as he kicked his legs up on the table. Oromё glared at his feet as if they offended him as he commented, “Exactly. Don’t we have enough problems to deal with? We don’t have the time or the power to invest in an entirely new issue-- one that could grow to become worse than the one we are already dealing with. I say we leave it alone.” 

“This is our responsibility.” Námo argued. “We are the reason this has happened. We need to do something to clean up our own mess.” 

Another figure with heavy-lidded sea green eyes shrugged his shoulders. “He will one day break out and need to be dealt with, anyway. The Prison merely postpones the inevitable. I think it would be cruel to leave them to their deaths.” 

“We got them into this, so we should get them out,” Nessa added, “I say we give them the same opportunity we have given Italia. See what they do with the same tools. That should be enough for them to find their way out.” 

“We can’t afford to expend that amount of power twofold! Yes, something should be done, but something _reasonable,_ ” Vana snapped. She paused for a moment, and then sighed. “Perhaps that idea is not without merit, but we cannot afford to power it. They might manage it-- it would not take so much, since the groundwork is already there.” 

Varda, at the opposite end of the table from the one at the head, shook her head. “That won’t be enough. Not for the delicate nature of this situation. He will get out if they do, but we must ensure he only gets out _after_ our plans have been completed for Arda. If he should break out early, I shudder to think what that would mean for the world. We have to have a bigger hand in this. The Void knows no time, but if we use Nessa’s plan to give them a chance to connect it, then we can do more.”

“How are we to do that?” Oromё drawled, “I don’t like the look on your face, Boss Lady.” He sighed. “You better not have me playing babysitter again. I lost some Quendi the first time, you all got mad, they’re annoying-- I’m not doing it.” When Varda only grinned, he stood up so fast he nearly fell over. “No! No! No, no, no, no, no! You are _not!”_

She waved a hand, her smile growing more mischievous, “Oh, you won’t be the only one this time, dear.”

“Little boss man! Talk some sense into her!” Oromё turned to the boy at the head of the table. 

Manwё only smiled softly. “I think her plan has merit.” He ignored Oromё’s sputtering and turned to the man to his right, “Tulkas? You’ve been rather quiet. This does concern your grandson, after all.” 

“Oh, yes.” Tulkas said, shaking his head. “I think we should do it. I would never leave my darling grandson to deal with him alone when I could help.” 

Oromё made a little sound of despair as he sank back into his chair. Ulmo patted him consolingly on the shoulder, eliciting a hiss but nothing more.

“A vote, then.” Manwё decided, standing up. “We’ll put it to a vote. All in favor of the plan-- same opportunity, encourage them to reconnect to time, then become directly involved?” 

Hands went up around the table. Tulkas, Námo, Ulmo, Vana, Nienna, Varda, Nessa, and Estё all raised their hands. After a moment, Irmo looked around and tossed his long pale brown hair.

“Oh, why not,” he said as he carelessly threw his hands up into the air.

Manwё smiled in relief and nodded. “We are decided, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further Songs:  
> The Ashes Will Be Woken - Peter Gundry (Vairё)  
> Land of Fire - Peter Gundry (Nienna)  
> The Red Dawn - Brunuhville (Námo)  
> Victory or Death - Louis Viallet (Tulkas)  
> A Nostalgic Dream - Peter Gundry (Manwё)  
> Nyx - Derek and Brandon Fiechter (Estё)  
> Fire Elemental - Derek and Brandon Fiechter (Nessa)  
> Dwarven Tunnels - Derek and Brandon Fiechter (Aulё)  
> Centaurs of Jagged Rock - Brandon Fiechter (Oromё)  
> Poseidon - Derek and Brandon Fiechter (Ulmo)  
> Insomnia - Al Marconi (Vana)  
> The Fire Dancer - Peter Gundry (Varda)  
> The Hunt - Brunuhville (Irmo)


	2. Mansion 1 | South Wing | Romano I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! We're back with the first chapter.  
> We use some other languages in this, and we provide translations-- but they're from Google Translate. We might be wrong, so if you see anything incorrect, please inform us so we can fix it. All of them can be seen if you hover over the word.  
> For those of you on phones and such, here's a quick rundown of what Romano calls the others: Spagna is Spain (in Italian), Turchia is Turkey (in Italian), Ungheria is Hungary (in Italian), Svizzero is Switzerland (in Italian), and Elláda is Greece (in Greek)
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
> Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde (South Wing)

**Mansion 1 | South Wing**

_Italy Romano (I):_

It felt almost as if his heart had been restarted. There was nothing, until there was suddenly everything all at once. Light and color and sound and smell and taste and a gasp of breath. 

Romano blinked several times, trying to recover from the disorientation and get his bearings. There was a thick fog hanging over everything-- he was outside, in some sort of courtyard. Seven other figures stood around him, none hostile but most were armed. A huge villa romana stood before them. The grounds were overgrown and walled in. There was a fountain, but it didn’t seem to be running. 

“Was--! Was ist das für ein Ort?!” Romano blinked in confusion at the bambino that spoke. Who was he? He looked a lot like Austria, actually, but he was tiny. He hadn’t even hit puberty yet. 

“Austria? Is that you?” … Okay. Romano had to be dreaming. That was definitely Spagna. Only he was scrawnier and younger as well. Granted, it wasn’t the big shift of the bambino that might be Austria, but still. Spagna had been well into his twenties, but this one had barely reached adulthood. He looked like he had stepped right out of his Conquistador days. He had the stupid hat and everything.

The bambino frowned and nodded, switching to the lingua spagnolo, “Well of course. Who else would I be?” 

“You have to be joking. You’re-- what, eight?” Romano huffed, crossing his arms. The bambino looked down at himself in confusion.

“Huh. Maybe,” said Austria, as if this didn’t bother him at all. “I suppose I should have guessed. You actually look tall.” 

Romano glared, but there wasn’t much heat to it. Austria as a bambino was fucking adorable. You couldn’t stay mad at a face like that. Instead he rolled his eyes and turned his attention forward. “So like he said earlier. Where the fuck are we?” 

Austria gave a quiet, “I don’t think that’s _quite_ what I said,” in response to the language. Romano ignored it. 

“I think…” Spagna trailed off, not bothering to finish his thought. Tension lined his entire body. He took another step closer to Romano, his stance clearly a protective one. What Spagna thought to protect Romano from, he didn’t know. In any case, he thought it a good idea to reach into his coat for the gun he kept-- and what was he doing wearing this? He only wore it for Mafia business. In fact, what _had_ he just been doing? Romano frowned, trying to recall the last day, then week. Nothing. What month was it? 

That was a problem. 

“What’s the matter?” asked… Turchia. The nation looked as he had in the glory days of the Imperio Ottomano. “Scared of a house?” Was it just Romano, or did Turchia seem nearly as unsettled and on edge as Spagna? It was a bit harder to tell with the mask, besides the fact that Spagna was just so easy to read. 

“I don’t like this…” it was muttered under Spagna's breath but Romano still caught it.

Elláda nodded from the end of the line and gave a soft, “Me neither.” At least he looked normal. Had Romano walked into an alternate dimension or something? This shit was weird.

“Tch.” Romano looked to his other side and saw Svizzero\-- once again, he looked younger. Maybe 16? He wore old chainmail, with a sword at his side and shield at his back. But there was also a gun holstered opposite the sword. “We don’t know how we got here-- unless one of _you_ are behind it-- and you have to _ask_ what is wrong?” The slight man glared between Turchia and the house, and crossed his arms.

The woman at Svizzero's side placed a gentle hand on his shoulder-- was that _Liechtenstein!?_ She looked-- beautiful. And older. This Liechtenstein was well into being a teenager and wore a dress that wouldn’t have been uncommon among the nobility in her youth. “I’m sure this was just some sort of misunderstanding.” Svizzero jumped at least a foot in the air when he saw her. Romano stifled a chuckle at his wide eyes. They looked like they could be the same age.

“Liechtenstein?! What are you-- you look--” Svizzero stuttered. Liechtenstein looked down at her clothes and hummed.

“Oh. Where did I get this?” she said, “I mean, it does look rather nice.” Liechtenstein held out the pale blue and lavender skirts and spun a little. Jewels glinted from her ears and the necklace she wore. Her hair was longer again and held in a braid.

Austria walked over with a… smile? What the fuck? “You look lovely. I believe I once had a dress made for you that was similar? Though you would have been smaller then.” 

“... Alright. This-- this can’t be Austria. He’s been possessed by a demon or something. Someone hold him down so I can perform an exorcism.” Romano didn’t think he’d actually do it, but this was just fucking weird. Now the bambino was smiling and complimenting people? Where did the stick up his ass go? 

“Calm down, this is normal,” sighed Svizzero, “... or at least it used to be. He wasn’t always an ass.” 

Austria turned to Svizzero, actual fucking tears glistening in his eyes, “Schweiz…? You… you think I’m-- but I thought you were my friend.” 

“Yes, of course you’re still my friend,” sighed Svizzero, “I’m sorry.” The tears nearly instantly melted into a smile. 

“Can we focus on trying to figure out what the hell is going on here?” a teenage boy growled. Romano was drawing a blank on this one. With how fucked everyone’s ages were at the moment, the 14 or 15 years he guessed were basically irrelevant. Hm… long light brown hair, tied back, green eyes… Oh. But-- Ungheria was a woman. It was impossible to mistake this boy as a girl. His frame was almost hyper-masculine for his age. The face was definitely similar, but… if Austria could be a smiling bambino then Ungheria could be a man. He’d have to keep an open mind and not think too hard about things to keep his sanity. “Did one of you do this?” 

Every one of them shook their heads or gave some variation of, “No.” Romano didn’t detect a lie from any of them. 

“Well, if it’s not one of you assho--” he coughed, remembering Austria the bambino, “I mean, one of you, then who was it?” Spagna still looked about ready to bolt or something. In fact, some of the others looked nearly as unsettled. Ungheria tried to look uncaring, but her/his muscles were taunt. Liechtenstein kept glancing around warily. Turchia tried to appear confident, too, but he looked a little on edge as well. Maybe he knew as Romano did to trust Spagna's instincts, even if Romano’s own were quiet.

Ungheria (he was just going to go with it for now, Dio this was giving him a headache) shrugged, “I don’t know, but my bet? They’re inside.” He or she or whatever motioned to the entrance of the building.

With a shrug and a huff, Svizzero stomped up to and knocked on the door. Liechtenstein followed, then Austria. Ungheria and Turchia were next. Romano looked to Spagna, who seemed unwilling to go. 

“Come on, Spagna,” Romano said, taking a step forward. After another moment, Spagna began to follow him. 

The door had not been answered yet. Svizzero knocked again. When there was still no answer, Ungheria shoved past and opened the apparently unlocked door. Svizzero looked like he might protest, but he didn’t. 

The group entered the front room. Romano closed the door behind them. 

He blinked. The foyer-- it looked like Spagna's. Almost _exactly_ like Spagna's. From the windows, to the tile, to the rug, to that stupid, ugly potted plant Romano had given him however long ago that the stubborn bastard kept to this day. The only difference was one that Romano didn’t catch right away-- there was a shotgun hanging right above the door. He wasn’t the only one who noticed it; a few moments later Svizzero took it down and began to examine it. 

“It makes no sense. Loaded shotgun above the door, but the door unlocked?” Svizzero scoffed, running his fingers gently over the metal. “Not a bit of dust, well oiled. Someone keeps it maintained.” 

“Doesn’t this look just like yours, España?” Austria asked, gesturing to their surroundings. 

Spagna looked uneasy-- a sudden sound away from bolting. His eyes scanned the room, and he nodded. “Almost exactly like.” 

Romano was starting to really dislike this. No one had answered the door. Was anyone even home? They had to get answers somehow, so it looked like they’d be poking around the house for them.

“Do you think whoever put us here did that on purpose?” Liechtenstein asked cautiously, pulling a handgun of her own out of a leg holster. “Have they been… stalking us?” 

Svizzero grimaced as if he’d bitten something awful-- maybe one of the inglese bastard’s scones. Apparently one of those abominations had hospitalized people before. Romano wouldn’t doubt that. “If that’s the case, then I’ll keep this.” He adjusted his grip on the shotgun. He exchanged a glance with Romano. “They’ll probably have more. We should be careful.” 

Romano nodded. He didn’t really believe in coincidences, at least not like this. The room was simply way too similar. The only difference was the door leading to what he assumed was the rest of the building. Romano approached it. He glanced back at the others to make sure they were all ready before opening it, free hand hovering near the gun in his coat. 

He gave a low whistle as they entered the hallway. It branched to both sides, as did two sets of ornate stairs. Before them were a pair of double doors. The floor was tiled and the gilding was done in gold. 

“It looks a bit like some of my old places,” Turchia mused as the rest of them filed into the hall. It did have that feel. It didn’t seem to be based on any room in particular-- not like the last room. Romano looked down the hall to both sides-- they both curved as they went, and the stairs curved with them. 

“Maybe we should leave?” Spagna asked, glancing down both halls as if waiting for something to come at them. 

Romano patted him on the shoulder. “Soon. Let’s find some answers. If we run into the creepy bastard behind this you can kick his ass.” Spagna's smile was fleeting, but at least there was one. Romano didn’t like to see him so freaked out. Not much scared him. 

Ungheria approached the double doors ahead of them and pushed them open. Inside was a grand stairway leading down to a massive ballroom. A crystal chandelier hung down in the middle. 

“This looks like my old ballroom,” Austria said nervously. The bambino gravitated towards Svizzero as everyone stepped inside. The floors looked like marble. Some of the others, like Ungheria and Turchia, felt brave enough to begin to look around. Svizzero and Liechtenstein (Austria sticking to Svizzero's side like a burr) paused before making their way around the balcony above the dance floor. Romano stayed by the door as he looked around. Spagna stayed with him.

“What, you a kid now too?” Romano asked, rolling his eyes. “Austria’s the only other one who feels the need to hover, and he at least has the excuse of being a bambino.” 

“Ah, well, I just really don’t like it here. It’s not safe,” Spagna replied. His eyes kept scanning their surroundings. 

Romano sighed. “Not like you aren’t basically an overgrown child anyways.” Not to mention a clingy bastard. It wasn’t like Romano wasn’t already basically used to it, even if he liked to fuss about it. He liked to hold out a little hope that one day Spagna would grow up. It gave him something to look forward to. 

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” called Svizzero from his perch above the ballroom. It hadn’t taken him long to find a good vantage point. “There’s a few doors out that I can see, but not many. One should lead to the outdoor balcony, if it’s like Austria’s.” 

Romano nodded as he surveyed the group. Spagna, Svizzero, Liechtenstein, Austria, Turchia, Ungheria… wait. Hadn’t there been--

“Where’s Elláda?” Romano spoke suddenly, cursing himself for not having realized sooner. In all the strangeness, he had completely failed to register that Elláda was missing! “Shit, is anyone else missing?” 

“I haven’t seen him since we came inside,” Spagna mentioned with a frown as he also seemed to do a mental headcount, “but I don’t think anyone else is gone.” 

Romano raised his voice, “We’ve got a problem. Get your as-- just get back here!” The others all made their way back up to the doors. 

“Elláda is missing. Did anyone see where he went?” Romano asked. 

Liechtenstein said, “Well, I think he left before we went inside. I don’t remember seeing him as we came in.” No one else seemed to know anything more. Romano cursed himself in his head. None of them had noticed him gone either, but that didn’t make Romano feel any better. Something that had Spagna so unsettled had to be bad news. Spagna may have been an over-dramatic, emotional man-child, but his instincts tended to be good. 

“We need to find him,” Turchia said. His attempts to act unaffected withered away in an instant. 

Great. Now there were two of them ready to jump at any shadow. What was it about this place that scared them so much? Sure, it was fucking creepy that they’d copied Spagna's foyer and Austria's ballroom, but Romano just… didn’t feel it. His instincts were usually just about as good as Spagna's. They had to be, after all. So why did he feel… not comfortable by any means, but… 

Romano sighed and shook his head. “Alright. Let’s head back out.” They made their way back out to the front entrance.

Romano tried the door. The handle didn’t budge. He tried again. 

“Fuck. It’s locked.” 

“Locked?” Ungheria demanded, stepping forward to Romano’s side. “What do you mean, locked?” 

Romano drew his hand away and balled it into a fist, “I _mean_ that someone’s locked us inside and Elláda is still out there.” Someone else was here. He didn’t like this. He was right to trust Spagna's instincts. He approached one of the windows, but frowned when he noticed there seemed to be no way to open it. He placed a hand against it, but instead of glass, it felt like the wall did. The window was frosted, but he could make out bars on the other side. 

“That won’t work,” Spagna said with a strange sort of certainty. “The only way out is to find the key to the front door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have the plot for South Wing set up! People familiar with Hetaoni should know where this is going ;)  
> Next chapter, we'll be seeing some more new arrivals, and a new wing of the mansion. 
> 
> Further Songs:  
> 24 - Jem (The Void First Theme)  
> Diabolic Clockwork - Two Steps From Hell (The Mansion)  
> Apocalyptic Warnings (Brutal Mix) - Audiomachine (Italy Romano)  
> Restoring Hope - Dylan C. Jones (Austria)  
> Sentenced to Death - Colossal Trailer Music (Spain)  
> The Devil - Rok Nardin (Turkey)  
> The Sealed Kingdom - Adrian Von Ziegler (Greece)  
> Nomad - Audiomachine (Switzerland)  
> Nocturne - BrunuhVille (Liechtenstein)  
> Collapsing System - MikroMatique (Hungary)  
> A Camara Lenta - Abraham Mateo (Spain and Romano)


End file.
